


Remorse

by Hexiva



Series: HP AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Character Death, Dark Wizard Erik, Horcruxes, M/M, Slytherin Charles, Wizarding Politics, new mutants - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: Born in Germany and educated at Durmstrang, the Dark wizard Magnus rose to power swiftly during the latter half of the 20th century. He and his Acolytes rose up in a bid to take over the world and dominate the Muggle population, only to be stymied by the efforts of one Charles Xavier. In the end, as the Acolytes were backed into a corner and defeat was imminent, Magnus challenged Xavier to one, final, climactic duel. The battle was brutal, but in the end, Xavier slew Magnus.Or, at least, that’s the story. Erik Lehnsherr, Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, knows better.





	Remorse

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a fusion, not a standard crossover - that is to say, the X-Men characters replace the Harry Potter characters, they don't coexist. As such, this story is not 100% accurate to HP canon, although I've done my best to stay true to the world of Harry Potter.

**_1991_ **

When Professor Lehnsherr went back for his quill, he found Illyana Rasputin crying in his empty classroom.

Illyana was a second year from Russia who had been sorted into Gryffindor. Lehnsherr had taken her under his wing in her first year, but he had thought she was doing better this year.

He paused at the door, and said, “Illyana.”

Illyana jerked upright and wiped at her face. “Professor! I was just - getting my books - I wasn’t crying - ”

“You don’t need to lie to me, Illyana. Everyone cries, now and again. Even Professor Xavier, no matter how hard he may try to hide it.” Lehnsherr walked past Illyana and rummaged in his desk for his quill. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” Illyana snuffled, and then covered her face to hide a new wave of sobs. “I - it’s just - I got into a fight with someone. She said I should’ve been in Slytherin.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Slytherin,” Lehnsherr said. He himself hadn’t gone to Hogwarts as a child, but he’d always suspected that if he had, he’d have been a Slytherin, like Professor Xavier. “Many of the greatest wizards of our time have been Slytherin.”

“The Sorting Hat said that too,” Illyana said, muffled. “I don’t want to be a Slytherin. I don’t want to be like - like - like _him!”_

Lehnsherr went and sat down next to her. “Like who?” he asked, gently.

“My - the - the man who raised me,” Illyana said, muffled.

“Not your father?” Lehnsherr asked.

“No,” Illyana muttered. And then, as if a floodgate had been unlocked inside her, she said, “He - he kidnapped me. He tried to teach me Dark magic. I was going to be his successor.  I was with him for y-years and I learned how to do terrible things and I _liked_ it, Professor! And here I am pretending to be a good little Gryffindor l-like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t leave marks on me, but the Sorting Hat knew I wasn’t, it knew I was destined for Dark magic, it knew I was gonna turn into _him!”_

“Your past does not define you, Illyana,” he said softly. “And knowing Dark magic alone does not make you a bad person. Knowledge alone doesn’t corrupt.”

“How would y-you know?” Illyana said, between sobs.

Lehnsherr gave her a lopsided smile. “I was educated at Durmstrang. They teach all of us the Dark Arts there.”

“Really?” Illyana sat up and wiped her face. “I always thought you were a Hufflepuff or something.”

Lehnsherr shook his head. “I grew up in Germany. Durmstrang saved my life, quite literally.”

“What did they teach you about the Dark Arts there?” Illyana asked.

“That it was a means to an end,” Lehnsherr said. “It was supposed to be a last resort, but there was a feeling among the students that an aptitude for it was something to be proud of. And, well, I had that aptitude.”

“You?” Illyana said, disbelieving. “Do you still - practice it?”

Lehnsherr shook his head, not taking offense at the question. “No. I gave that up a long time ago.”

Illyana was silent for a moment. “Why?” she asked, eventually.

“Because it was destroying me,” Lehnsherr said.

Illyana’s shoulders slumped, and she put her face in her hands again. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said. “Th-that it’s going to destroy me too.”

“But it didn’t,” Lehnsherr pointed out. “I’m here. I left my past behind me. And you, young lady, haven’t had nearly enough time to get up to as much wrongdoing as I did.”

Illyana snickered. “Can’t imagine you getting up to mischief as a kid, Prof. You seem pretty uptight.”

Lehnsherr smiled. “You’d be surprised.” His smile faded, and he added, “It’s easy to do bad things when you’re in a bad situation, Illyana. It doesn’t make you a bad person, and it doesn’t mean you can’t change.”

* * *

  ** _1953_**

“I agree with you,” Erik Lehnsherr said, leaning back on the hill. “The Wizarding World has kept itself cloistered away for far too long. We need to come out of the shadows and show the Muggles who their true masters have been, all this time.”

Charles Xavier frowned in irritation. “That’s not what I meant. We need to live side by side with the Muggles, not rule over them.”

Erik laughed. “That would never work. We have the power, Charles. What’s the point in pretending otherwise?”

“It’s not all about _power,”_ Charles huffed. “It’s about accepting other people as our equals.”

“But they’re _not_ our equals,” Erik pointed out. “And they never will be.”

“What would you have us do, then?” Charles snapped. “Kill them all?”

“No!” Erik said. “You think me a monster. No, those who surrendered willingly would be treated well. As for the others, I expect making examples of a few would put the rest back in their place.”

Charles scowled at him. “I wouldn’t have expected this kind of talk from you, Erik. Your own parents weren’t wizards, were they?”

“And what,” Erik said, accusingly, “Because I’m not a Pureblood, I can’t see that we’re better than them? My blood does not define me, any more than it does you.”

“If we’re better than them,” Charles said, “Then we should _behave_ better. If we have the power, we also have the responsibility to use it right.”

“‘Use it right’?” Erik echoed. “By rolling over and letting them rule the world for us?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Charles said, irritated. “ _Coexistance,_ Erik. It’s possible.”

“No, it isn’t,” Erik snapped. “The problem with you, Charles, is that you think you know everything about the Muggle world, but you’ve never had to _live_ there like I have.” He ripped up the sleeve of his purple dress robes and showed his forearm to Charles, where a string of numbers was tattooed in black. “Do you know what these numbers mean?” he demanded.

Charles shook his head.

“Muggles put them there. I was thirteen. My parents had just been gunned down in front of my eyes, and they held me down and branded me like cattle.” Erik’s lip curled.

Charles stared at the numbers, uncomprehending. “Erik, I - I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“That is the world, the society, you propose we ‘coexist’ with,” Erik snapped. “They didn’t do this to me because I was a wizard. They did this to me because I was _Jewish._ If they can’t even accept their own kind, why would they ever accept us? No. If we are to reveal ourselves, it must be as conquerors. We can change the world, Charles. We can make sure no child ever has to suffer like I did - wizard or Muggle. _That_ is the right way to use our power.”

Charles sighed and rubbed his temples. “Even if I were to agree that that was the right approach, the Wizarding world never would.”

“Then I would _make_ them,” Erik said, with finality.

* * *

  ** _1981_**

“Give up, Magnus!” Charles called out. “Your armies are devastated. You’re backed into a corner. It’s time to give up your mad crusade.”

“Not while I have my wand, Charles!” Magnus exclaimed. He was clad in black, hooded robes, with a silver Roman-style helmet, but under the helmet, his skin was pale white and his eyes glowed red. How many Horcruxes had he made? Charles wondered. Even one was too many.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Charles said. “It’s not too late, Magnus. You can _stop_ this madness. You can repair your soul.”

Magnus laughed. “You have no idea how many people I’ve killed to make my Horcruxes, do you, Charles?”

“Some idea,” Charles said, grimly. “Lay down your wand, Magnus.”

“No,” Magnus said, flatly. “You’ll have to to take it from me, Charles. Fitting, is it not? I always knew it would come down to this. You and me, Charles. One last duel to the death.”

Charles didn’t respond. He simply raised his wand and threw out a curse.

Magnus blocked it handily, and threw another one in return. Both of them were master sorcerers, and although Charles was paralyzed from the waist down, it didn’t make him any less formidable of an opponent.

The air was thick with spells, and Magnus and Charles were focused in on each other, every spell life or death for them.

“This isn’t the end, Charles!” Magnus proclaimed. “It’s just the beginning for me. After I kill you, I’ll rout your followers and lead the Acolytes to a glorious victory!”

Charles was silent, focusing on his spellwork. He knew Magnus was delusional, that these were the words of a man backed into the corner and still imagining he could rule the world, and it saddened him to see his old friend that way. He blocked Magnus’s next hex - but was blindsided by the next, coming rapid-fire and knocking his wheelchair over, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He struggled to grab his wand, but his hands were weak and he couldn’t get up, the spell slowing his responses. “Erik . . . no,” he pleaded. “Don’t let it end this way.”

“Too late, Charles!” Magnus said, stepping forward, wand in hand. “ _Avada - kedavra!_ ”

As Magnus’s spell exploded from his wand, there was a cry of “No!” and a boy darted out in between Charles and Magnus. The killing curse struck him full on, and he fell down, crumpling over Charles’s form.

“Bobby!” Charles said, clutching the boy’s shoulders. “Bobby, no - no, you should’ve listened to me, I told you to stay _back - ”_

“No!” Magnus said, his eyes wide with shock. He dropped his wand. “No, no, no no, I didn’t - I didn’t see him there, Charles, I - ” He went to his knees and helped Charles roll the boy onto his back. His fingers went to the boy’s neck. “No!” he hissed. “He’s - he’s just a boy. What have I done? God, what have I done?”

“You have killed an innocent,” Charles said, quietly, closing Bobby’s eyes with one shaking hand. “He was - he was trying to save my life.”

“He - he didn’t deserve this,” Magnus said. “I never meant to kill a child. But in my rage, I - ” He clutched his chest and cried out. “Charles, it - hurts!”

Charles looked up at Magnus in shock, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Magnus?”

Magnus dropped to the ground, clawing at his chest. He was wreathed in an eerie golden glow. “Charles!”

“Erik,” Charles said, softly, reaching out to put his hands on Erik’s shoulders. “It’s all right. It’s going to be okay.”

“What’s happening to me?” Erik gasped out.

“Remorse,” Charles said, pulling Erik into his arms. “True remorse. The only thing that can repair a soul ripped apart by murder.”

Erik clung to Charles tightly, as if Charles could protect him from the pain wracking his body and soul. “God, what have I done?” he said again.

Charles just wrapped his arms around Erik and let him cry onto his chest. “Be strong, Erik,” he said. “This will not destroy you.”

“Sh-shouldn’t be possible,” Erik stammered out, his fingers digging into Charles’ shoulders. “I am - too old, Charles, I have live too long with my hatred. I have ripped my soul apart in the name of a dream which I have ruined.” He let out a sob. “God, I can feel every crime I have committed, as if they were visited on me.”

“You did this to yourself,” Charles reminded him, not letting go. “You can fix this. Your soul can be whole again.”

“I should have died instead,” Erik sobbed. “I should have died instead of him.”

Charles held on to him. Eventually, after what felt like days but could not have been more than an hour or two, the shaking and sobbing ceased, and Erik went limp in Charles’ arms.

“Is it over?” Erik asked, his voice ragged.

“No,” Charles said, quietly. “It will never be over. You will spend your whole life making up for this.”

Erik was silent. He withdrew from Charles’ arms and got slowly, to his feet. “What happens now?” he asked, eventually.

“Now?” Charles said, summoning his wheelchair to him with a flick of his wand. “We move on, as best we can. We bury our dead. We make amends.”

“How can I ever do that?” Erik said, helping him into it.

“Well,” Charles said, “I have a few ideas about that . . .”

* * *

  ** _1991_**

“Checkmate,” Erik said, using his queen to knock over Charles’ queen.

Charles smiled. “You’re on a roll tonight, Erik. Usually, I’m the one beating you.”

“Ahh, so you say, but where are the facts?” Erik said, gesturing with his queen.

“I should start keeping score, just for that,” Charles said.

“You’ve been saying that for years, Xavier,” Erik said, affectionately. “And you never do.”

Charles waved a hand. “You have a point there.” He sat back in his wheelchair. “It’s been a long day. I caught Quentin Quire trying to sneak off to Hogsmeade again, and when I stopped him, he tried to hex me and said I was violating his civil liberties.”

Erik laughed. “That sounds like Quire, yes. I suppose he won’t be getting out of detention anytime soon.”

“No, which means more work for me,” Charles said with a sigh.

“You chose this job,” Erik said, waving a finger at him. “You could’ve been an Auror or a curse-breaker or the Minister of Magic, but you wanted to be a schoolteacher.”

“More fool me,” Charles said, smiling. “But you can’t complain. You’re a teacher too now.”

“I blame you for that,” Erik said. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be a Dark wizard.” He smiled, but there was a bitter edge to it, and he let the silence stretch for a long moment. Then he said, “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?” Charles said, starting to set up the board again.

“Fake my death.” Erik gestured broadly.  “Lie to everyone. Give me a job.”

“Because you can do more good here than you could locked up in a cell at Azkaban,” Charles said, putting the last pawn in place. “And,” he added, looking up at Erik, “Because I love you.”

Erik caught his breath. He reached out and put his hand over Charles’. “Charles - ”

“You don’t have to say it,” Charles said, smiling. “I know.” And he reached out to pull Erik into a kiss.

For the rest of the night, the chess board was forgotten.


End file.
